


Sleepless Nights

by FebruaryFun



Series: Marvel Oneshots [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Has PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 19:35:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20296837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FebruaryFun/pseuds/FebruaryFun
Summary: Steve finds his door open in the middle of the night.Aka, the one where Peter has PTSD and Steve is there to take care of him.





	Sleepless Nights

Steve Rodgers wasn't a stranger to sleeping issues. He was well aquainted with nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat and shivering in the dark until the images in his head let go of him or the sun began to rise, whichever came first. So why was he confused now? He just woke up in the middle of the night. Nothing new.

The thing was, he wasn't shaking. He wasn't afraid, his breathing was even, and he was perfectly calm. He hadn't been dreaming at all and no sense of dread or crushing guilt followed him into the waking world. Considering everything... What woke him up? 

He slowly sat up, looking around the room. He blinked at the light streaming through the door left slightly ajar, glancing around. His compass was on the bedside table next to him, sitting in front of a framed picture of the team at a party. Tension creeped into his muscles. He never left the door open when he was asleep.

Instinct kicked in as he inspected his room again, looking for anywhere someone could hide in his room. The closet door was closed. There wasn't any room for someone to hide under the bed. There weren't any curtains over his window, although if he had them, he would probably laugh at the thought of a criminal really hiding behind the curtains. He got out a knife from the bedside table drawer- old habits and old paranoia died hard.

He got up and slowly approached the closet, moving to stand next to the door. Holding his breath, he reached out, then slammed the door open, preparing for a fight. No fight came. No one was in the closet.

Steve slowly lowered his knife, huffing at himself in amusement as it occurred to him that he was looking for a monster in the closet. Alright, so no one was in his room. That didn't change the fact that someone _had _been in the room, or at least had opened the door. Nothing looked out of place, but a quick sweep of the building couldn't hurt.

Stepping out into the hallway, he frowned. The hall was lined with doors to the other Avengers' rooms. Every one was left slightly ajar. Catching a slight movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned towards the end of the hall. _There was someone just around the corner. _Making his steps as silent as possible, Steve moved down the hall, tensing once again in anticipation of a fight. Whoever it was clearly wasn't part of a professional organization- they weren't even trying to hide their footsteps as walked. However, as soon as he got close, he heard them stop. They knew he was there. Well... If they had a gun, he could probably avoid getting shot in any major organs. For the second time, he jumped out to face what he assumed was going to be a trained assassin.

Before he could process who he was up against, he was sent stumbling back by a kick to the chest, momentarily knocking the breath from his lungs. When he looked back up, he found his hand holding the knife pinned to the wall with familiar webbing. Wait a minute.

Wide, frightened eyes stared up at the captain through a mop of messy brown curls. Peter was wearing his web shooters and pajamas, a large wrench in his hand. New habits and new paranoia was hard to shake. 

"Peter..." Steve took in his appearance slowly, concern replacing adrenaline. "Hey, hey, look at me. Calm down. It's just me." He let go of the knife, although it stayed stuck to the wall. 

Peter didn't calm down, but he at least dropped his guard a little bit. "C-captain America?" 

Steve smiled a bit and nodded. "Yeah. It's me. I'm gonna tear my hand out of this webbing now, okay?" Getting a nod from the boy, he struggled with the web for a moment before it tore, letting Steve lower his hand. "What are you doing up this late? Did you open my door?"

Peter wrapped his arms around himself, nodding shakily. "I-i just... I'm sorry, I-" He looked down, suddenly choking back tears. The fight drained out of him and Steve barely caught him as he sank to his knees. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"It's okay, you don't have to be sorry. Deep breaths." Steve gently pried the wrench from Peter's hand and tossed it aside, then put his hands on Peter's shoulders, holding him up gently. "Just tell me what you were doing." He noted silently that Peter was shaking, his skin and clothes damp with sweat.

The voice that answered him didn't sound like Peter. He'd only met the kid a couple of times, but there was always something like an excited bounce in his tone of voice, a bright curiosity. But this? This was nothing like that. He sounded haunted and broken, on the verge of tears and stuttering like it was hard for him to move his mouth. "I... I w-was checking... Ev'ryone's in- in danger..."

Steve's heart cracked. He knew that look. He knew that voice. He gently pulled Peter into his arms, wondering quietly what the boy had been through that he didn't know about. Tony normally kept an eye on the kid, but he wasn't the most responsible person, and being a superhero came with an increasing number of scars as you went on. "Shhhh... Everyone's safe... Come here, you shouldn't be alone tonight."

He tried to help Peter stand, but when the boy failed to take more than a few steps, he just picked him up, carrying him with one arm against his back and one under his legs.

Steve didn't normally let anyone in his room, but this was different. He quietly asked FRIDAY to turn the closet light on low as he closed the door. Sitting on the bed, he tucked Peter against him. "Breathe, Peter." He put Peter's hand on his chest. "Follow my breathing. Everyone is okay. We're all safe. You're safe. You can let your guard down."

He kept talking until Peter stopped shaking. When he looked down, the boy was asleep.

***~~~~~*~~~~~***

"Peter needs therapy."

Tony looked up at Steve, a confused expression on his face. They were in the lab. Steve had walked into the room and turned his music off without asking, getting right to the point. "I don't know what he's been through, but he's not okay, and he needs _professional_ help."

Tony put down the gadget he'd been working on, his confused expression becoming a frown. "I know he's been through a lot of shit, but he can't just go see a therapist to talk about it. Unlike you and I, he hasn't revealed his identity, and he doesn't want to. We can't be sure-"

"Then find someone you are sure about." Steve wasn't going to let this go because of inconvenience. He knew it was dangerous, but they'd proven before that danger could be worked around for necessity. "I know you want him to live a half-normal childhood, but to do that, he has to cope with the not-so-normal parts of his life."

"He seems to be coping pretty well to me." Tony turned back to his gadget, dismissive. "He's a little bothered by what happened, but it doesn't look like it's taken a huge toll on him. He's eating fine, he's still happy..."

Steve crossed his arms, blood boiling a little. "I function perfectly fine," he growled out, "But I still struggle with PTSD. Don't you dare discount Peter's problems because he 'seems fine'. Just because you're capable of smiling doesn't mean you're incapable of being hurt at the same time."

Tony looked back up at him. "Why are we talking about PTSD?" That finally caught his attention, a little worry finally setting in.

Steve took a deep breath, composing himself. "Peter was up in the middle of the night checking all of our rooms to make sure that we were all safe. I woke up and found him wearing his web things and holding a wrench. He didn't recognize me at first. He was ready to fight me. He was shaking, he had nightmares all night, and I probably talked him down from a dozen panic attacks. It was _bad_, Tony." He shook his head. "He's got too much on his shoulders. Yeah, he's coping. That doesn't mean he's coping _well_."

Tony took a moment to process and contemplate everything Steve was saying. "...I'll see what I can do. I'm glad you told me."

Steve nodded, impressed by how close he got to a 'thank you'. That meant that Tony was pretty serious. "Yeah. Just... Keep in mind everything he's going through, okay? Sometimes people don't show their problems until it's gone too far."

***~~~~~*~~~~~***

After he was done talking to Tony, Steve went to look for Peter. He needed to talk to him. 

To his surprise, Peter was looking for him, too. "Oh! Hey, I was looking for you! I mean, um, hi, Cap- Captain."

That pleasant bounce was back in his voice, and you wouldn't notice the slight strain unless you were looking for it. Steve wondered how many times it had been there and he had missed it. "Just call me Steve, Peter. I was looking for you, too. What do you need?"

Peter fidgeted with his hands a little. "Well... I wanted to say thank you. For last night. And ask you if you maybe wouldn't tell anybody about it?"

Steve smiled a bit, fond. This boy was really starting to grow on him. "Well kid, I had to tell Tony. He needs to know so he can help you, but I promise I won't tell anyone else."

Peter sighed, giving Steve a shy, resigned smile. "Yeah, I figured. Well... Thanks anyway. I really appreciate it. So you were looking for me, too?"

"You're welcome," Steve mumbled, trying to think about the best way to approach the topic on his mind with Peter. "So kid, do you know what PTSD is?"

Peter nodded. "I mean, I know a little. I've read about it a little, and I know Mr. Stark has it. It's like, when someone gets back from war and they have flashbacks and stuff."

Steve smiled again. "Yeah, I guess that's the simple explanation. It's not always just sudden flashbacks, though. How about you and I go grab something to eat and sit to talk about it."

"Aw yeah! I'm starving. Can we get some pizza?"

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, pizza sounds good." 

Peter rambled as they walked down the hall, talking about... something. Science, Steve was pretty sure. He couldn't really follow along, but it sounded interesting, and Peter seemed excited about it. The boy suddenly trailed off, thinking about something carefully. Steve looked down at him. "Something on your mind?"

Peter looked up at him. "Cap- I mean, Steve? Do you think I have PTSD?" 

"Yeah, kid." He smiled sadly, then ruffled his hair. "I know what it's like... I've been through the same thing you were going through last night. Where you aren't sure whether it was a nightmare or reality." He caught a small nod from Peter, then continued. "I still have those nights sometimes, but it gets better, I promise. You can always come to me, alright?"

Peter nodded, his happy-go-lucky front dropping. He looked tired. "Thanks." He smiled a bit. "Hey, did you know that doves are pigeons?"

"Really?"

"Yeah! It's actually really cool-"

He wasn't as energetic as normal, but he was still himself. He was coping. He just needed a little help sometimes. Steve smiled to himself as they walked, listening to Peter talk. 

They were going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Projecting onto characters? Nooooooooooooo, never!
> 
> I hope you liked my fic! If you did, please leave a comment! Constructive criticism is always welcome!


End file.
